


A Bad Day Can Only Get Better

by Dreamin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Molly has a bad day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9820463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: Molly comes home after a heart-wrenching day to the people she loves.





	

**Author's Note:**

> When I asked Tumblr for three-word prompts, mizjoely suggested "horse, pretty, chasing." This is the result and I dedicate it to mizjoely.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine, it all belongs to the BBC.

Molly Holmes slid into the back of the cab. "221B Baker Street, please," she said tiredly. She leaned her forehead against the window and closed her eyes, willing the day's events away but the images came anyway.

_The smell of burnt popcorn hitting her as soon as she walks into the breakroom. Turning back around and running to the loo to lose her breakfast in the first stall. Damn morning sickness…_

If it had just been pregnancy-induced nausea, the day would have been simply annoying. It was the afternoon that turned it into a day she never wanted to repeat.

_Three-year-old girl. Lestrade is livid – he's convinced she was murdered. She doesn't look like Eliza, Rosie, or any of the other kids in their ever-expanding unconventional family, but it doesn't matter. Maternal instincts, pregnancy hormones, and pure human decency make it so she almost can't complete the autopsy. She does, though, because she's a professional. She tells Lestrade the result – the girl died of a congenital heart defect. Lestrade is overcome with relief that no one had hurt the child. Molly knows he's thinking of his kids, both his older ones from his first marriage and his six-month-old with Stella. She manages not to break down herself until she's in the locker room shower._

Now, all Molly wanted was her bed and a chance to sleep for five or six days. After the cab pulled up at her door, she paid the driver and got out, physical and emotional fatigue making her steps drag as she went inside and up the stairs. Happy voices floated down from the flat and Molly couldn't help a small smile.

The smile widened when she stood at the door to the sitting room and saw her husband and three-year-old daughter running around the room, both laughing their heads off. Eliza had a plastic horse clutched to her chest and was shouting, "My horse!" over and over while Sherlock kept replying, "No, mine!" At that point, it was impossible to tell who was chasing who.

Six-year-old Rosie was quietly sitting on the couch, coloring and occasionally rolling her eyes at the antics of her "uncle" and "cousin." Molly smiled to herself, knowing her goddaughter had picked up the gesture from Sherlock, or possibly Mycroft. Either way, it was definitely a Holmes trait.

_Thank God Eliza hasn't started doing that,_ she thought. _But I might not be so lucky with the new one._ She rubbed her still-flat stomach fondly. _Just don't have your father's eyes, okay? It's hard enough to discipline Eliza when she looks at me with your dad's eyes._

Sherlock noticed her first. "Hello, love," he said, smiling happily. He came over to kiss her softly. "How was your day?"

Rosie looked up from her coloring book and smiled at her, revealing her first lost tooth. "Hi, Aunt Molly!"

"Mummy!" Eliza wrapped her arms around her mother's legs before Molly had a chance to respond. "I missed you so much! You look so pretty!"

With that, Molly felt the rest of the day evaporate under her family's love. She knelt to hug her daughter and smiled up at her husband and goddaughter. "Much better now."


End file.
